


With you

by Anonymous



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Birth, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Time Skips, pregnant timmy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19738759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Elizabeth is the past. My long awaited past. This, Timothée, is everything. The quiet sniffles in his sleep from allergies and hormones. The gentle flutter of his bones shifting under pale skin as he curls deeper into the sheets, searching for safety and warmth. Protection for our embryo. This is my future.





	With you

Timothée's body is illuminated in the pale, faint light coming from the singular lit bulb in the corner. It’s a tacky vintage one my mother had given me for the nursery in my old LA home. It never made it to there. Instead it’s now sat on the hardwood flooring of my little brand new condo.

Elizabeth is the past. My long awaited past. This, Timothée, is everything. The quiet sniffles in his sleep from allergies and hormones. The gentle flutter of his bones shifting under pale skin as he curls deeper into the sheets, searching for safety and warmth. Protection for our embryo. This is my future.

A tainted pull of a smile resides on my cheeks before I’m acutely aware of it. It’s odd, feeling genuinely happy for once.

Timmy has done more for me than I’d thought I’d ever deserve let alone get. My lover. He taught me the ways of a deeper love. A love that touches the soul, not the surface. A love that leaves me breathless after a kiss. A love that keeps me aching when he’s away. A love where I’d kill, ruin anyone who’d ever hurt him. A love so dangerous and true only death could tear my eyes from him.

My third child has picked it’s home inside him. A child that won’t look like Liz. A child that’ll have brown silky curls and kaleidoscopic eyes. I hope they have his wheezy laugh, his bubbly charm and his pretty frame.

*

I’ve planted my seed in him time and time again. Baby bump nudging in the way and all.

I press into the warm suckle of his hole. He’s tight, nestled in heat and plush tenderness. He cries out at the smallest sensations and he submits easier than he’d admit to, but it’s perfect. He’s perfect.

When I cum for the 2nd time, sweat pooling grossly in my pits and my mouth bared like an animal against his throat, he swallows thickly. Hearts panting madly in my ears. It’s then when he cries and hugs me close I know he’s just as wrapped as me. That he’ll never dare to leave.

He’s weak, let’s me maneuver him like his limbs are made of jelly. All baby weight and sluggish lack of energy weighing him down. He nearly dozes off when I wipe his thighs clean of my jizz. It’s strange, kinda funny how different we are since we met. He’s no longer the boyish kid I'd met who used to watch Liz and I cook while nonchalantly flicking pistachio shells onto our overpriced suede couch. He’s now so much older mentally but still, in these vulnerable moments, he’s almost the same. That childlike aura still latched on by a few strings.

*

When Timmy gives birth, I cry silently into my hands. My head buried deep like my shame for the actions. Childhood insults and conservative shaping dies hard. Timmy has taught me a load about vulnerability, and though it looks beautiful on him it doesn’t so much on myself.

It’s when Timmy needs me, looks over at me with despair I know it’s okay. We’re in this together.

I didn’t cry for myself. I cried for his pain. His shaking limbs and contractions that make him cry out like a wounded cat.

I hold his hand for hours. My feet go numb and my heart pangs like a fire alarm.

The nurses blur around me. All I see is him.

His round belly quivers with movement. I wonder if that’s the visual shift of my child trying to exit or just Timmy’s labored breaths. I hold my hope out on the first option.

Nicole couldn’t make it. She’s hours away just like his father. It had been unexpected. Timmy had just hopped out the shower when fluid sloshed down his legs and immediate cramps started for him.

He screams into the third hour.

Our daughter comes out on the fourth.

*

She’s got Timmy’s smile and nose and that’s all that matters.

Timmy is tired but happy after the birth. His body sore and his nipples swollen. He’s full of adoration for their newborn, swaddling her carefully to his breast. She suckle from his nutrients, his lips quiver at the sensation. It’s sore and brand new to him.

*

We name her Fairuza because her eyes glow like a bright blue sky. She giggles like Timothée and she’s got some of his tendencies. I couldn’t possibly love her more.  
And then, on the last day of Summer, when the weather is settling into a calmer, breezier setting, I put a shiny, rose gold ring on his finger. An engravement in the inner band that reads

> Forever yours


End file.
